


Steam

by amscray_punk



Series: Four Sundays [5]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous!Spot, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25293664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amscray_punk/pseuds/amscray_punk
Summary: Race and Spot go out to blow off steam after a tough week. Spot gets jealous.*The rating is maybe a little high, could probably be rated M, but let me be clear: there is sexy stuff, oral sex does happen, it's just not SUPER graphic. But it is definitely there, so to be safe, we're going with E.**This involves Nurse!Spot and Dance Student!Race from my other work, Four Sundays. You don't have to read that to understand this, though, obviously. Apparently they just live in my head now sooo, here's a one shot!
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Four Sundays [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838668
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	Steam

**Author's Note:**

> This just kinda happened ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ pls enjoy

It had been a long week.

The emergency room had been packed every day, keeping Spot plenty busy during his normal shifts and the overtime they’d needed him to work. Work was made that much harder when he’d had to call CPS about a couple of boys who’d come into the emergency room, the origins of their injuries questionable and malnourishment certain. It turned out that they both lived in the same group home – ironically called The Refuge – and they may have tipped off CPS just in time to save not only their lives, but countless other boys, too. Happy as he was that they were getting out of the situation, he couldn’t help but wonder where they’d go now, if their new placements would be any better or, he hoped against hope it wasn’t possible but, worse. He’d gone into the healthcare field to help people, and deep down he knew he was helping those boys but sometimes it was hard to leave work at work. The things he saw as a nurse sometimes haunted him for longer than he’d admit. He just wanted to go home and spend the rest of the night on the couch with his boyfriend.

_Home_ ; his studio apartment that he now shared with Race. He’d moved in a few months earlier when Jack and Katherine had suddenly eloped – her father didn’t approve but obviously, she didn’t care. It was only a one bedroom, but that was all they needed. Plus, since Spot already afforded the place himself, Race was able to cut back his shifts at Jacobi’s to focus on his last semester of school. Neither of them minded the small space; Race was _very_ affectionate and always wanted to be draped on top of him, anyway. But between the stress and the hours, Spot’d hardly been home all week. Not that it really mattered, since Race had been consumed in his studies for the past couple of weeks, leading up to midterm exams and performances. If he wasn’t at the studio, he was at home, headphones on and head stuck in his laptop, taking notes or writing papers. But even though he was physically there, Spot never wanted to interrupt him when he was studying.

But it was finally Friday: his day off and Race’s last day of classes for the week. He’d slept in, as well as he could with the nightmares he’d been having. Finally he’d given up and dressed for the gym, which was his go-to for blowing off steam. He’d spent three solid hours there and he walked out feeling, if possible, more pent up than before. He was sure it didn’t help that he’d hardly had any alone time with Racer all week; God, he’d be glad when he graduated in a couple of months. So he’d gone home and started cleaning, trying to channel his nervous energy into something productive until Race had come home later that evening, frazzled, and thrown himself onto the couch.

“Spotty,” he whined, an arm draped dramatically over his eyes. Spot grunted a response from the kitchen, where he’d just finished mopping. He washed his hands and made his way over to his boyfriend, picking up his legs and setting them back down across his lap as he settled into the couch. “Let’s go out tonight. I wanna dance.”

Spot snorted, resting his hands on Race’s thighs. “Ain’t you tired of dancing, yet?”

Race sat up at that, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Spot’s neck. “C’mon, Sean,” he wheedled, breath gentle against his skin. Spot grunted again at the use of his real name, snaking an arm around Race’s back to support his weight as he pulled him into his lap. Race only ever used it when he wanted something, and even then what he _wanted_ wasn’t usually so innocent. It gave Spot a hint as to how Race wanted this night to go, and he was certainly not opposed to _that_ end result. The club, though… “It’s been a long week.”

“Hmph.” He knew he’d end up in a dance club tonight, but he wanted to make Racer work for it, just a bit.

“Pleeeeease,” Race coaxed, hooking a finger in Spot’s shirt and tugging it down to press soft kisses along his collarbone. “I’ve been stuck in classrooms all day. I gotta _move._ ”

“I got a couple of ideas,” Spot murmured, rolling his hips upward, earning him a small, surprised gasp. He took advantage of the moment and tipped Racer’s head up, kissing him deeply. Race responded eagerly, moving his leg so that he was straddling Spot on the couch. He felt Race’s fingers toying with the hem of his shirt and he pulled back, breaking the kiss. Smirking at the disappointed noise Race let out, he studied his boyfriend’s face, lifting a hand to swipe a curl out of his eyes. Race stared back expectantly, eventually pulling his lips down into an exaggerated pout until Spot huffed, “Fine.”

Race grinned in delight and rewarded Spot with another kiss, his tongue running along Spot’s lips before Spot gripped his hips and picked him up, depositing him gently back on the couch. Spot laughed softly at Race’s confused expression.

“Go, get ready. We’re going to dinner, first.” Race lit up again as he jumped off the couch, hurrying toward their bedroom. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty!” Spot called after him, dropping his head onto the back of the couch in defeat.

And that was how, several hours later, Spot found himself crammed against the bar of a night club, all sticky air and booming music. _Too loud,_ Spot grumbled to himself. He paid for his beer and maneuvered through the crowd, using his broad shoulders as a guide. He slid onto a stool at a high-top table and surveyed the dance floor, searching; his eyes landed almost immediately on a mop of golden curls, flashing neon colors as they reflected the pulsing lights. Spot watched him intently as he sipped his beer, unwilling to pull his gaze away for anyone or anything – not that men and women alike didn’t try. His Racer was always thrumming with energy, and even after long days of dancing his ass off, this was his favorite way to blow off steam. According to him, there was something different about dancing in a sea of bodies, no choreography, just feeling the music and letting it carry away his stress. And Spot had to admit he didn’t mind watching – watching Race dance, choreographed or not, was one of his favorite things to do. He wasn’t much of a dancer, himself, but not because he was bad at it. He had natural rhythm and found himself occasionally dancing with Race at home when the mood struck. But clubs had never really been his scene, and the thought of being pressed so closely against other hot, sweaty strangers made him a little… jittery.

When Race brought him to night clubs, this was their routine: Race would throw back a few shots of tequila in quick succession – which usually led to a few sloppy kisses for Spot – before he disappeared into the crowd, working his way somewhere toward the middle so he could let loose. Spot unwound more slowly, preferring to stick to beer and usually, only a couple. Half the reason he let Race drag him here was to make sure he was safe, so he needed to keep a (mostly) clear head. He knew Race could take care of himself; his lean build was deceptive as it hid a layer of hard muscle, conditioned from years of dance. But the thought of Race out there, truly alone, with no one watching to see if he was too drunk or – God forbid – feeling the effects of a date rape drug, made Spot’s stomach twist.

Normally, on club nights, the sight of Race dancing suggestively with another man was no cause for alarm. Race knew Spot wouldn’t dance _like_ _that_ in public, and they’d gone out for a reason. And Spot knew Race was faithful to him, and more than that, he knew he’d be coming home to their apartment later. But that night, as Spot watched his gorgeous boyfriend, glistening with sweat and hips rolling to the beat, his eyes suddenly locked on an unfamiliar limb, an arm draped over Racer’s chest from behind. The offending arm belonged to guy in his early twenties, taller than Race by a hair, who was dancing behind him and _far_ too close for comfort, in Spot’s opinion. As he watched, the guy leaned down to speak in Racer’s ear. Heat flared in Spot’s chest.

Spot generally didn’t consider himself to be a jealous person. He knew how striking his boyfriend was, the kind of attention he attracted wherever he went. And in a place like this, where Race was in his element? He could hardly blame the guy for shooting his shot. But as he watched, the stranger’s hand trailed across Race’s chest and down his side, coming to rest on his hip and something in Spot snapped. He downed the rest of his beer, tossed it in a trash can, and marched onto the dance floor without taking his eyes off of Race. He came up beside the guy, unseen by either him or Racer, and nudged him _hard_ with his shoulder, enough to throw him off balance and backward, away from Race. The guy stumbled, looking pissed, and started back toward Spot, mouth opening – and closing just as quickly when he looked into Spot’s eyes and saw the intensity burning there. Spot _almost_ wished the guy would push it, give him a chance to let out his aggression, but he apparently thought better of it and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Race turned around, startled by the loss of heat behind him, and his face split into a wide smile at the sight.

“Spotty!” Long arms encircled Spot’s neck as Race pulled him impossibly close, grinding on him immediately. Spot’s hands fell naturally to Race’s hips as he moved with him, trying to enjoy the moment. He hated how close the other clubgoers were but he tried to focus his attention on Racer and Racer alone, taking in the sight of his flushed complexion, the tight-fitting tee and skinny jeans clinging to his body and for a few moments, it worked. Of course, having Race pressed sensuously against him would distract him from nearly anything. But a moment later, movement caught Spot’s eye and he looked over Race’s shoulder to see the same guy from earlier creeping back over to them. He pressed himself into Racer’s back again, daring to make eye contact with Spot, the challenge clear. Race hardly had a chance to look back at the new addition before Spot splayed his hand across the small of his back and pressed Race tightly against his own body. He slipped a hand into Race’s hair and kissed him, taking Race slightly off guard. His other hand slid down to grasp Race’s ass in a possessive show that was a touch unusual for him, but in the moment felt instinctual. He couldn’t hear Race’s appreciative gasp, but he could see a satisfied grin spread on his boyfriend’s face as he pulled back. Race leaned in, running one finger down the middle of Spot’s chest as his lips brushed his ear.

“Ya jealous, Spotty?” 

Spot growled in response, sliding his hands to Race’s hips and gripping roughly, then spinning him around and pulling him flush, so that his back pressed against Spot’s chest, Spot’s hips fitted against his ass in a familiar position. The stranger was all but forgotten by both of them – Race had hardly noticed him in the first place, really – as Race responded eagerly, pressing back into his boyfriend and earning another low growl that he couldn’t hear but could feel as it rumbled through Spot’s chest. Race threw his head back so it rested on Spot’s shoulder, granting Spot generous access to his throat in a clear invitation. The combination of Race writhing against him and the open expanse of his neck, laid before him for the taking, made the club fall away as Spot latched on, nipping high on Race’s neck, just below his ear. Race gasped and ground into him, eyes rolling back as his hands ghosted over Spot’s where they held him tightly. He grabbed one of Spot’s hands and drug it up his body, letting Spot’s fingers pull up the hem of his shirt so he could feel each of his ab muscles in slow succession; knowing he was driving Spot mad. Spot responded with another bite to Race’s neck, a little harder this time and Race outright moaned on the dance floor, the noise swallowed by the pounding beat.

Spot knew he couldn’t take much more; the heavy, humid air, the pulsing music and Race’s shameless ministrations were dizzying, sending him down a road to overstimulation if he didn’t do something, and quick. He could feel the toned muscles of Race’s stomach with his fingertips, feel the light sheen of sweat on his skin and suddenly, feeling it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see it and he wanted to see it _now._ He turned his head to press his lips against Race’s ear, relishing in the shiver that ran through him as a result.

“Time to go,” he growled, nipping Race’s earlobe for emphasis. “Now.”

Race didn’t get a chance to argue – not that he would have – as Spot gripped his hand tightly and led them off of the dance floor and toward the doors. The cool spring air was shocking, refreshing on Spot’s skin as they exited the club onto the crowded sidewalk. He spared a moment to drink in the sight of his Racer, hairline slicked with sweat and flush high on his cheeks; Race stared back, feisty as always with his lip caught between his teeth. The hungry look in his eyes was downright indecent for how exposed they were, there on the sidewalk. Race moved to hail a cab but Spot tightened his grip on his hand and yanked him down the street, away from the club, away from the bright lights.

Race said nothing at first, surprised by the sudden movement but after a block or so he caught up to Spot’s quick pace, lacing their fingers together. “Where are we going?”

Spot didn’t answer, simply ducked down the first alley they came across. He noted Race’s excited gasp with satisfaction as he pulled them into the darkness and shoved him roughly against the brick, closing the space immediately and capturing his lips with an intensity that made Race’s head bounce lightly off the wall. Race gasped at the contact and Spot made a mental note to check that out, later. But he seemed fine as he surged back into Spot, giving as much as he was getting as he snaked his hands around Spot’s neck and into his short hair, gripping and tugging so that Spot growled again, deep in his throat. Spot pulled back, panting, and focused his attention on Racer’s neck, kissing here, nipping there, soothing the bites with his tongue before moving on. Race writhed beneath him; it seemed he was only capable of those shallow, breathy noises Spot loved so much.

“So pretty, Racer,” Spot murmured, drawing back up to that spot behind Race’s ear and pressing an open mouthed kiss there.

“Mmm, that’s what that guy said,” Race teased, his voice pitched high. Spot stopped dead and pulled back, eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“The guy on the dance floor,” Race responded, a mischievous grin spreading. Jealousy and arousal tangled for dominance in Spot’s stomach. “He kept telling me how pretty I was, how good I looked…” Race paused, taking advantage of Spot’s momentary stillness as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Spot’s ear this time. “…how pretty my mouth is.”

White hot heat flared in Spot’s chest as he growled, pressing against Racer so he fell back against the wall again. He pinned him in place with his hips, rolling them slightly so Race could feel him, feel his need. Race let out a high whine as he bit his lip again. Spot leaned in until he was nearly nose to nose with his boyfriend.

“And what did you say?” He breathed, his soft voice laced with warning.

Racer didn’t answer right away, mischief shining in his eyes as he grabbed Spot’s hand and drew it up, up until he isolated Spot’s pointer finger and ran it along his lips. Spot’s breathing was shallow as Race pulled his fingertip into his mouth and bit down gently, swirling his tongue before pulling off with a _pop_. “I told him he should see what I can do with it.”

A needy groan escaped Spot before he could stop it and Race lit up. Spot was almost sure he was embellishing for effect but _fuck_ , it was effective. In an attempt to regain control, Spot looked defiantly into Race’s eyes.

“Well,” He smirked. “What can ya do?”

Race’s eyes flashed as he absorbed the challenge. He brought his hands up Spot’s chest and pushed; Spot allowed himself to be walked backward until his shoulders hit the other side of the alley, rough brick catching in the material of his shirt. Race drew himself up, towering over Spot as he palmed him roughly through his pants and nipped at his neck in a delicious role reversal. Spot had a fleeting thought that they could be caught at any moment; they really weren’t far off from the busy sidewalk. But the desperate movements of Racer’s hand against him wiped all caution from his mind and he gripped the front of Race’s shirt, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

Distantly, he felt Race’s fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on his jeans, and could hardly wrap his mind around what that meant before Race pulled back, grinning wickedly, and dropped to his knees, right there on the concrete. A gasp caught in Spot’s throat as he looked down in surprise, rewarded with a devilish look in Race’s eyes as he wrapped his fingers around him, waiting.

“Tony…” Spot warned softly. Race tugged once, tearing another rough groan from Spot.

“Sean,” he quipped before he wrapped his mouth around him in one go and Spot’s head dropped against the brick – great, now he had to check himself out later, too. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, or even feel the sting at the back of his head as Race moved, cheeks hollowed, hands roaming upward to slip under Spot’s shirt and over the hard planes of his stomach and chest.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut as he lost himself to the sensations. Race moaned, sending a shock through him and he lifted his head, wanting nothing more than to burn this image into his brain forever. Race met his eyes, looking downright sinful as he hummed again, sending those irresistable vibrations through Spot and drawing another guttural moan as he wound his fingers tightly into Race’s hair.

“Racer,” Spot panted, heat curling at the base of his stomach assuring him he wouldn’t last much longer. “Shit, Tony,” Spot squeezed his eyes shut, head falling back again as Race surged forward, nose grazing against Spot’s abdomen and Spot’s vision went white. He let out a string of curses as Race moaned around him, hands gripping Spot’s hips and not letting him pull away as he finished. Spot’s breath began to even out as he blinked the stars from his eyes, coming back to reality. He looked down in time to see Race swipe the back of his hand across his mouth, eyes sparkling in the darkness as he stood up. Spot grabbed a handful of Race’s shirt and pulled him close, crushing their mouths together, tasting himself on Racer’s tongue and letting out a soft sigh. He could feel Race against his thigh, pressing into him with his own need and he smirked against his lips.

“Let’s go.”

Race didn’t argue, just stumbled behind Spot as he led them to the street where he hailed a cab, pushing Racer in ahead of him. He told the driver the address as Race attacked his neck, sending a new wave of heat through his chest and straight down. He gripped Race’s side, giving him a gentle squeeze as the car moved through the city. Suddenly, Race pulled back.

“Y’know, Spotty,” Race seemed caught between mischief and sincerity as he grinned at Spot in the darkness. “Green just might be your color.”

“Shut it.” Spot grumbled, surprised, as always, at Race’s ability to make him blush. Still.

“No, I’m serious,” Race did sound like he meant it. “It was kinda hot.”

Spot shut him up with a kiss, which Race happily returned before pulling back a moment later, lifting a hand to cup Spot’s cheek.

“Seriously, though,” And this time, there was no doubting his sincerity. “You know I didn’t really say that to him, right?”

Spot studied his face, a small smile playing on his lips. “’Course I do,” he replied, laying a hand on top of Racer’s where it held his jaw. “Although, it does sound like something you would say.”

Race gasped, feigning outrage. “ _Qui, moi_?”

“Yes, _you,_ ” Spot replied, ducking his head to kiss his neck again. “Ya fuckin’ tease.”

Race turned to catch Spot’s lips in another kiss, hands roaming. They were only about a block from their apartment when Race pulled back again.

“You gonna be ready for me when we get home, Spotty?” He breathed into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Spot turned his head and caught Race’s eyes, voice low and solemn.

“Oh, Racer. I’m just getting started with you.”


End file.
